The Great Shipwreck of Life
by Sansaryas
Summary: After Sherlock's death, John doesn't cope well. When Moriarty shows up with an offer, John finds himself in a position he never would have expected. (eventual John/Moriarty, no previous Johnlock, only John & Sherlock friendship. Side pairing of Molly/Lestrade later on.) /x-posted to ao3 under same username
1. Chapter 1

It had been two months since the funeral. A little more than two and a half since the actual fall. John wasn't coping very well.

He was still living in 221B, but he felt wrong and out of place without Sherlock there, and as a result he was pretty much always out and about, hardly getting any sleep. Which is also why it didn't surprise him too much, when he started to see Moriarty just about everywhere: In the grocery store, in the pub, on various different streets. Even in the graveyard.

John knew it was his mind playing tricks on him, vivid hallucinations spun from his sleep-deprived mind. Or, he thought he knew. Until the day Moriarty spoke to him.

"Hello, Dr. Watson." Hearing the easily recognized voice was enough to make John's head snap up. He blinked a few times, confusedly, as he waited for the hallucination to disappear. But it didn't It was when the hallucination spoke again that John realized that it was, in fact, not one. "You don't look very well. Now that Sherlock is gone, somebody else ought to look after you."

"Sherlock didn't look after me." He scoffed, without thinking. "If anything it was the other way around." He stiffened as a smile formed on Moriarty's face, making him realize who he was talking to. John waited a while for the Irish-man to explain what he wanted, but when it didn't happened he simply asked. "What do you want? Have you been following me?"

To his surprise, Moriarty's smile just grew.

"What do I want?" He repeated the question as he let his eyes run over the doctor, who started to feel uncomfortable under the intense stare. "The other question is easier to answer. Yes, I have been following you. Not a lot of excitement going on in your life recently, is there?" He asked, tilting his head slightly as he noted how John had tensed up.

"Why don't you find someone else to stalk then?" His tone was flat, and his eyes showed nothing as he stared at the nemesis of his best friend. Moriarty actually chuckled at the question.

"Oh, but what would the point be then?" He said, a smirk still on his face. John sighed as he rubbed his tired eyes. He had no clue as to why Moriarty would be interested in him, and he was too tired to even worry about it.

"What do you want from me?" He sighed, looking up so his chocolate eyes met Moriarty's even darker ones.

"I want you to come with me. Stay with me. Be to me what you were to Sherlock." There was no trace of humour in his voice and the smile had even disappeared, leaving his face with a serious expression. John's brows flew up in a questioningly manner.

"What if I tell you I don't want to?" He asked, knowing that he had to be careful around the criminal. Before he was halfway through his sentence, Moriarty was smiling again.

"I can be very persuasive." He said mysteriously, as he took a sudden step forward, placing his hand on John's forehead. The doctor was too surprised to even move, so he just stood there, staring in confusion as a frown formed on Moriarty's face. "You've got a fever." He muttered, sounding almost worried. "You're a doctor, John, you're supposed to take care of these things." It sounded almost as if Moriarty was scolding him, and he would have found the situation hysterical if he wasn't too focused on the fact that Moriarty had called him by his first name. The way he had said it, made John unable to stop thinking about it. He stood there, dumbfounded, as Moriarty took a step back and looked at him, disapprovingly.

"I'm not interested." John finally managed to get out, after a long break of silence. Moriarty half-smiled again.

"Find me when you are. For now, go home and rest up. You're not useful in this state." With those words, the criminal mastermind turned on his heel and walked away, leaving John alone and confused, his skin tingling where Moriarty had touched him and his voice as he'd said John's name replaying in the doctor's head.

John lasted five days. At first he was considering to wait for Moriarty at the graveyard, where they met last, but he felt it would be wrong to get Sherlock involved, dead or not. So instead he chose a pub not too far from Baker Street, where he knew he'd seen the criminal before. He sat down at the bar with a pint, and waited.

It took about half an hour before he found Moriarty, or well, before Moriarty found him – It must have been obvious that John was looking for him, because the self-proclaimed villain didn't wait for an invitation before taking up the empty chair next to the doctor. His way to confident smile almost made John regret his decision, but he knew he would never be able to kill his curiosity any other way.

"What exactly do you want me to do?" John asked, after a short moment of silence. He didn't look up from where his hands was holding the glass in a tight grip. It bothered him when he noticed that his hand was calm again, feeling at home in the dangerous situation.

"Not much, really." The Irish man replied. "I want you to tag along with me, help me, normal stuff like that." There was a break between each sentence, as if Moriarty himself wasn't completely sure what it was he wanted. John finally turned to look and wasn't surprised that he was being stared at.

"Help you? With your criminal stuff? Normal?" He wasn't sure these were words he would normally use in the same sentence. Moriarty gave a small laugh.

"Nothing you'd be uncomfortable with, I promise. I'll even spare you the details, if my job bothers you." His eyes were shining.

"So basically, you just want someone to hang out with?" John's tone was flat, he didn't need an answer. It came anyways.

"You could say so." Moriarty's smile grew bigger, as they both knew that John had already made up his mind. The criminal stood up from his seat and pushed the chair back in. "Pack your bags tonight and I'll pick you up tomorrow morning. It's about time you get away from Baker Street." 

John didn't answer, but as he watched his former enemy turn and leave, he knew what he was going to do. He knew what the right thing to do was, but for once that wasn't what was on his mind. He sighed to himself, as he downed the rest of his pint before ordering the next.


	2. Chapter 2

"You don't have to leave." Mrs Hudson told him, as he dragged his suitcases down the stairs. He stopped and sighed as he looked at her.

"I know. But I can't stay." There was a sadness in her eyes and it made John feel guilty, not about leaving because they both knew that was bound to happen, but by the fact that he was going to Moriarty. That he was choosing Moriarty over , 221B and the memories of Sherlock. But that was the exact reason he had to leave – The memories. Mrs. Hudson nodded, understanding.

"When I lost my first husband, I was just the same. I couldn't bear to be in our flat, when he wasn't there too." For once, John didn't correct her wrongful assumption about him and Sherlock. He knew his landlady wouldn't hear anyways, and it wasn't worth trying anymore. Instead he nodded his head gravely, and she sighed sadly. John leaned in and gave her a small peck on the cheek.

"Take care Mrs. Hudson." He said as he stood back up, grabbing his suitcases. He had one last look at the empty living room, where Sherlock's skull had somehow found it's way back on the shelf, before he yanked the suitcases of the ground and headed outside.

When he came outside, he found a black car waiting and a serious-looking man in a suit standing outside it, looking at him.

"Doctor John Watson?" The man asked him, as he came closer. John looked the man over once, before nodding his head quickly. He looked at the car, wondering if Moriarty was in there. He couldn't see due to the tinted windows. He briefly considered turning back, but he knew his curiosity would never let him.

"Yes, yes that's me." John said, as the man bent down and grabbed his suitcases, one in each hand. John reached out, about to offer him help but the man brushed him off without saying a word. He placed the two suitcases that contained most of John Watson's belongings in the boot of the car, before he turned back to the doctor. "Excuse me, who are you?"

The man didn't answer at first as he opened the door to the backseat, gesturing for John to get in. John watched him for a moment, unsure if he could trust the man. Then he realized that this man worked for Moriarty, so obviously he couldn't, and there was no point in even thinking about it. Without anymore questions, he got in, surprised to find Moriarty in the other seat.

"Hello, John." He smiled at the surprised look on John's face. "Didn't expect me to come after all?"

John blinked a couple times, his mouth open slightly as he thought. The man closed the door and slid into the driver's seat, and John's brain finally kicked into gear.

"Moriarty." He breathed out first, before clearing his throat. "Uhm, well, I thought you might be too busy to come here yourself, seeing as you probably have some crimes, uhm some work I mean, to erhm.." The other man smiled as John's voice slowly turned into a mumble before stopping completely.

"Call me Jim. If we're going to be flatmates, there shouldn't be need for such formalities." Moriarty said. He stared at John with an expectant look on his face, but it took a while before the doctor realized that he was supposed to answer.

"Oh yeah, right. Okay. Jim it is. Jim." He repeated the name, but couldn't help the odd feeling it caused to say it. It felt wrong, like he was getting to familiar with the enemy. But then again, moving in together usually meant being familiar with each other more so than enemies... They rode for a few minutes in silence, before John couldn't help himself. "So, uhm... Where are we going?"

Jim looked up from his phone at John, smirking slightly.

"Home. We're going home." He replied and John rolled his eyes. That wasn't the answer he was looking for, and they both very knew that very well. But it didn't take John long to figure out that Jim wasn't gonna give him a better one.

"Yes, that's great. But it'd be very helpful to know where 'home' is, especially seeing as I need to tell them where to send my mail and-" He didn't get any further before Jim cut him off.

"Don't worry about that just yet, you'll see very soon." It was clear by the tone of his voice that it wasn't up for further discussion, yet he didn't sound bothered. They went back to silence. There was so many things John wanted to ask, but now didn't feel like the right time. Instead, he started chewing on the inside of his cheek as he looked out the window and watched London passing by, as he ignored Moriarty who was still occupied by his phone.

They rode for another 20 minutes, through parts of London that John wasn't sure he recognized. Then they finally stopped outside a rather fancy looking building. John was looking around curiously, as Moriarty finally looked up from his phone. He noticed the doctor's eagerness to get out and explore and he let out a small chuckle. He was confident that having John over would be interesting, to say the least.

The driver opened Moriarty's door first, while John opened his own, earning a surprised glance from the otherwise expressionless man. Moriarty didn't seem to mind, which made the other man relax quickly, and John never even noticed the tension.

"Is this it?" The doctor asked, not even bothering with hiding his curiosity.

"Mmhm." Moriarty replied, glancing at his phone again. He pushed a few buttons before sliding it into the pocket of his jacket. John had noticed he was wearing a suit again, but he didn't question it. That was probably just his sense of fashion. John himself, was wearing one his usual jumpers, a beige one. "Do you like it?"

The building looked like it had at least five floors, and it was very modern and clean to look at. John just nodded, without giving any other kind of answer. He could feel Moriarty's eyes on him, so he knew he'd seen it.

"Let's go inside. Sebastian, bring Doctor Watson's suitcases, please." He ordered the driver, who was already taking them out of the trunk. John turned around to offer his help straight away.

"Oh no, don't worry – I can take them myself, it's really no problem. " He was trying to put on a friendly smile, but the driver didn't show any kind of emotion as he picked up the bags and went straight past the doctor. John stared after him, dumbfounded. Moriarty chuckled again, earning a questioning glance from his new flatmate-to-be.

"There is no point in arguing with Sebastian Moran, so just save your breath." He offered, as if that was a fair explanation. John didn't push it further, as Moriarty had started to enter the building. John quickly shuffled after him, opening and closing his hands while trying to hide how excited he was to see where the one and only Jim Moriarty would live.

There was a few doors on the ground floor, but Jim headed straight for the lift and John was quick to follow. He pressed the "3" button as they were all inside, and soon they were going up. John and Sebastian both followed Jim out of the lift and straight to the end of the hall where the only door on that floor was located. John stared at the numbers on the outside of the door. 221. He scowled at Moriarty, who just smirked in return but neither of them said anything. Moriarty pulled out a key and stuck it in the door, twisting it slowly before pushing the door open. John hadn't realized he was holding his breath, until he let it go as they all entered the flat.

It was... surprisingly normal. The door led into a big open space, where a sofa and a few chairs were placed in front of a huge flat-screen tv. John wasn't sure why, but for some reason he hadn't expected Moriarty to have a tv. The kitchen and living room were practically combined. It all had a very modern feel to it, very different from the 221B he'd just come from.

"What do you think?" Moriarty asked, as he looked at John who was still taking it all in. "Is it what you expected?"

"I don't know." John answered truthfully. "I don't know what I expected, really."  
Moriarty seemed satisfied with the answer. He said something to Moran that John didn't really catch but as the other man turned and started walking towards a door with the suitcases, John watched him before quickly looking at Jim. "Is that my room?" He questioned.

Moriarty nodded and gestured for him to follow Sebastian, which he did. The room was big, bigger than he'd expected. There was a double bed, a desk and a closet. There was also a laptop on the desk and a few plants and other decorations around the room. He noticed that Sebastian had put his suitcases by the closet and he nodded at the man and thanked him. Sebastian's reaction was to leave the room, and John sighed, glancing around one last time before returning to the living room to find Moriarty standing exactly where he'd left him.

"Now, let me show you the rest." He gestured for John to follow him, which he did as he lead him around the flat, showing him the various places. There was a bathroom, complete with a shower AND bath, then there was two different offices, a room containing a washing machine and tumble dryer (which looked suspiciously unused) another bathroom although this just contained a toilet and a sink, and then Moriarty's room. Which was private, locked and John was not allowed to enter, ever. It didn't come as a surprise, but he was still more curious about it than he'd expected to be.

"So, now that you've seen it all, I'm gonna leave you to unpack your things and settle in. I have some work to do." The emphasis he put on the word _work_ made John think back to earlier the same morning. For Jim, work=crimes. John chose not to think about it. "The fridge is stocked, help yourself to whatever you need. I don't know when I'll be back, in any case don't wait up. Moran will help you if you need anything." He gestured to the still expression-less man who didn't react to his name being mentioned. John looked at Moriarty as he took in the information, then he nodded.

He was wondering what to say: Thank you? See you later? Have fun doing crimes? He chose not to say anything. Before he could decide what to do next, Moriarty took three quick steps until he was completely in John's space, making the former army-doctor's heart beat fast as a rush of adrenaline ran through him. Moriarty still equaled "danger" in his mind, apparently.

John didn't get to ask what exactly he was doing, nor move away, before Jim reached into his pocket and fished out his phone. The old one he'd gotten from Harry. The only sound in the whole flat was Jim pushing a few buttons, before he closed the phone and slid it back into John's pocket. Then he turned around, ready to leave but John stopped him.

"What did you just do?" He inquired, not as bothered as he should be by Jim's behaviour. Without looking back, Moriarty replied:

"I gave you my number. Don't call me unless it's an emergency. Texts are fine." He sounded bored, as if John should have known already. He was halfway out the door, when John spoke again.

"How did you know the code?" He was only half expecting a reply. Jim stopped and turned to look at John over his shoulder, the smirk back in place.

"I have my methods." He said mysteriously, and then he left. John sighed, and rubbed his forehead. Now that Jim was gone, he was gonna have to face his own thoughts, and sooner or later the gravity of the whole situation he'd put himself in would hit him. Not yet though, John thought to himself. He made his way into the kitchen, his mind focused on one thing only.

As he filled the kettle with water from the tap, he turned to the stonefaced man who was still just standing in the living room while watching him, with an offer.

"Tea?"


	3. Chapter 3

It was past midnight when Moriarty came home. Moran had gone home earlier, but John was still up, sitting in one of the chairs in the living room with his laptop in front of him, trying to write something for his blog. He knew he'd given up, because there was so much to write about but nothing he really could without making it official that he was in Moriarty's house, but he couldn't get himself to put the laptop away.

"Didn't I tell you not wait up?" John didn't even have to look up to know Jim was smirking, it was obvious from his voice. John wasn't sure what to say, but as he looked up at his former enemy, the words just came out.

"Why are we doing this?" He saw how Moriarty's face fell into a more serious grimace, as he sighed and covered his face with his hand. John just looked at him, not sure what to expect, when the Irish-man finally spoke.

"Of all the things you could say, you ask me that." He moved further into the flat and John noticed that he was carrying a white plastic bag, which smelled suspiciously much like Chinese food. "I don't know, John. I really don't. That's what makes it interesting, right?" There was glimmer in Jim's eyes as he grabbed a fork from the kitchen and moved into the living room, where John still hadn't answered. "Did you eat dinner?"

"No." John admitted, after a few seconds of silence. He knew there was no point in lying to Moriarty, and besides he was curious as to why the criminal mastermind would care.

"Didn't think so." The smirk was back on his face, but it looked different. John didn't know how or why, but he knew something was off about it. Moriarty handed John the bag and fork. "You gotta get used to the kitchen though. I told you to cook whatever's in there, and I mean it."

"Thanks." The doctor wasn't sure what to say to all of it, although he doubted he would be comfortable cooking food from Moriarty's fridge in Moriarty's kitchen anytime soon. But then again, if he was going to live here, that might turn out to be a problem... Jim had gone back to the kitchen and was fiddling with stuff out there, while John closed his laptop and put it down, before opening the tray that contained a mix of noodles, vegetables and what looked to be chicken. He hadn't realized he was actually hungry, but as soon as he saw the food, his stomach growled loudly.

He ate in silence, focusing his attention on the food, grateful that it was enough to take his mind off of the questions he continued to ask himself, despite knowing that there was no answer.

Moriarty appeared five minutes later, as John was still eating, with two teacups. He placed one on the small coffee table next to where John was sitting, and took a sip of the other one. John looked at him as he chewed his noodles, and it briefly occured to him how nice it was to have some company, even if they weren't talking. He quickly pushed the thought away, as he thanked Moriarty for the tea before taking a sip. He felt like he should start a conversation, but at the same time he felt perfectly comfortable with the silence, oddly enough, and Moriarty seemed to feel the same. He was studying John intently, the corner of his lips just barely turned upwards in a half-smile, as he sipped his tea.

"Is this how your evenings with Sherlock used to be?" Moriarty suddenly asked, as John put away his tray and took a sip of his tea. He slowly set the cup back down, before shaking his head.

"No." He knew Moriarty was probably expecting an explanation or some clarification, but he didn't feel up to giving any.

"Good." Moriarty replied, and then he stood up. John raised a questioning brow.

"Why?" He asked, eyeing the other suspiciously. "I mean, why is it good?"  
Jim didn't reply, but the smirk was back. This time it didn't take long for John to realize why it looked wrong. There was bags under the criminal's eyes. Moriarty was tired. John blinked a few times, somehow surprised. He wasn't sure why he kept forgetting that despite being Moriarty, the man was actually human and needed sleep to function as any other.

"Should we go to bed?" He asked, as he followed Moriarty's example and stood up, grabbing his cup from the table.

"Probably." Moriarty shrugged, as John went past him and into the kitchen, where he failed to locate a dish washer. He was just about to start washing the cup in the sink, when Moriarty entered and pressed a door under the table, that turned out to be the door of the dishwasher. Without a word, Moriarty took the cup from John's hand and put it in, following his own. He stood back up and closed it, before looking at John with those dark eyes. "Goodnight, Dr. Watson." He said.  
John nodded, without knowing why.

"Goodnight." He replied softly. They stood for another 10 seconds before John moved out of the kitchen, and down the hall to his room. He closed the door behind him, and took a few seconds to try and process what exactly was going on. He heard another door close, and a key turn in the lock and he knew Moriarty had retreated to his own room too. He checked his door to look for a key, but as he'd already suspected there wasn't any. Should he be worried? Probably. But he was too tired to care, and besides, if Moriarty had wanted to hurt him, he could have done so already.

Without thinking too much about it, he dressed down just his pants, before he crawled into his new bed, happily surprised by the softness of it. He worried for a split second if he would find it hard to fall asleep, but before he'd even finished the thought he was taken over by his tiredness, and the darkness surrounded him.

John woke up late. He rolled over in the bed, and looked at the clock on the night stand. 9:32 it read. He sat up abruptly, and squinted at the numbers, as if he'd seen wrong.  
John never really slept longer than 8, not after Sherlock's fall, not even when he'd been up late. He yawned, still surprised, before he climbed out of bed and headed to the closet. He'd spent most of the day before unpacking his stuff, so it'd be ready. He knew he should probably have a shower, but he didn't feel like walking through the house in just his pants, in case he bumped into Moriarty.

He quickly picked out a pair of loose jeans, and one his beloved jumpers, before changing and heading out the room. The place was quiet, and at first there was no sign of anyone there. John went into the kitchen, where he noticed a pink post-it on the fridge. He stepped closer to examine it.

'Went out to do some work. Will be back sometime this afternoon. Help yourself to whatever needed. Jim.'

John yawned again, annoyed with himself for still feeling tired, when suddenly there was a sound behind him that made him jump. He turned around to see Moran, entering the kitchen.

"Jesus!" He exclaimed in terror, before he realized who it was. "When did you get here?"

"I've been here since the boss left." The man replied, and John realized that it was the most the man had spoken to him so far. Interesting. He felt a bit stupid for not noticing his presence before, especially seeing as he'd been in the army, but apparently this guy was very good at sneaking.

"So... What are you doing here?" John asked curiously, rocking on his feet. Moran raised a brow as if it was a stupid question, and John immediately took offense, seeing as this was the first time the man had actually bothered with a facial expression.

"The boss asked me to stay with you until he comes back." His tone didn't give anything away, but John knew that the man thought it was obvious. He scoffed slightly. So, Moriarty had practically given him a babysitter.

"You don't have to." John said, shrugging. "I won't be doing much today."

Moran didn't reply, but he didn't make any move to leave either. John groaned on the inside, as he came to the realization that the other man wasn't gonna leave. He thought for a moment, before he concluded that maybe it wouldn't be so bad after all. He went to have a look in the fridge and asked Moran: "Do you like scrambled eggs?"

Twenty minutes later, they were seated at the kitchen table, with each a plate of scrambled eggs, bacon and toast. John was the first to start eating, while Moran looked somewhat skeptical. Granted, he hadn't answered John's question, so maybe he didn't really like eggs after all, but John felt it would have been rude to not make him something, and now he'd at least done that so he could feel good about eating his own breakfast. Five bites later, and Moran finally picked up the fork. He didn't say anything, but he stared at John as he put the first forkful of egg into his mouth and started chewing. John tried to hide his smile.

It was half past one, when the door was slammed open. Both of them looked up from the chess board that was placed on the table between them, to see Moriarty storm in, looking as if he was ready to kill someone. Moran quickly stood up, and Moriarty's attention turned to them. He stopped and looked at the game of chess and for a moment his features softened into a curious expression.

"Moran, I have a job for you." He said, as he studied the half-finished game that Moran was clearly winning. Moran nodded quickly and followed Moriarty as he gestured for them to go outside and speak. John got up from the chair and started packing up the pieces, knowing that it would be best to occupy himself with something so he wouldn't feel tempted to listen in on the other mens conversation. Whatever Moriarty wanted Moran to do, John was quite convinced he didn't want to know it. John was still in the middle of packing the game away, when Moriarty re-entered, looking slightly less angry as he shrugged his jacket off. He was in a suit, as usual.

"Do you like chess?" He asked, eyeing John curiously, as he hung the jacket on the back of a chair. John froze in his movements, and turned to look at Moriarty.

"I don't mind it." He said, still paused in putting it away. It was true, he wasn't completely obsessed with it, but he found it entertaining once in a while, and since Sherlock never wanted to play, John hadn't done it in a while. "Are you done with your work for today?" He didn't know why he asked.

Moriarty chuckled darkly, as he loosened his tie and pulled it off. John blinked a few times. This was the most relaxed he'd seen Moriarty so far.

"I'm never done with my work." The criminal replied flatly. "That doesn't mean I can't do other things though... Like play chess. Are you up for a game?" John put the chess board back down on the table. This was the first thing Moriarty had suggested for them to do together.

"Sure." He replied, as he started setting up the game. "Black or white?"  
Moriarty smirked.

"Black."

They ended up playing three rounds. Moriarty won two, and they ended up with a tie in the last one although John suspected Moriarty might have lost on purpose. Normally, he wouldn't think that of the criminal man, but he made too many stupid moves to be serious. John didn't mention it.

It was half past five, when Moriarty had to go and deal with some more criminal stuff. He'd put on his tie, his jacket and a deadly glare and rushed out the door, but not without telling John not wait up, and to make sure to eat dinner.

John went out for the first time, walked around the area for a while to get to know it, then we went back and cooked some pasta with a bolognese sauce and ate in front of the tv. After finishing and tidying up, he sat down and wrote a new blogpost, although he never hit the post button.  
He left the TV on, and not long after a movie started that caught his attention, so when Moriarty came home close to 1 AM, John was snuggled up in the chair, as the credits were rolling down the screen.

Moriarty entered the living room, and John looked up.  
"There's some bolognese in the fridge if you're hungry." He said, and Moriarty raised a questioning brow.

"You don't have to cook for me." He said. John could hear the surprise in his voice, even though he was clearly trying to disguise it.

"I know." John replied shortly, and Moriarty nodded his head. John figured it was probably the closest he'd get to a thank you.

"Did you cook for Sherlock?" The criminal asked as he left the room to go into the kitchen, while pulling of his tie. John sighed, already getting tired of the constant mentioning of Sherlock. He wasn't about to argue with the other though, so he just let it slide.

"No." He said shortly, and Moriarty didn't ask further. "I'm going to bed now." He announced a few minutes later. "You don't have to it,if you don't want to."  
He added as he glanced into the kitchen, where Moriarty was staring at container with bolognese in the fridge.

"Goodnight John." He said, without commenting on John's last words.

"Goodnight." John replied, before retreating to his room. The first full day of living with Moriarty was over. It'd been quite uneventful. He still hadn't figured out why he agreed to move in, but he felt like he'd made the right choice. And it scared him a little bit.


	4. Chapter 4

A few uneventful days had passed. John had been out exploring the area, always accompanied by Sebastian, while Moriarty was working. Moran never stayed for dinner, but he ate breakfast and lunch with John.

Most of the evenings, Moriarty was home late. He came home early one night, and they had dinner together, but the rest of the evenings, John ate alone. He'd made a habbit of making enough to save a portion for Moriarty, and judging by the empty containers in the dish washer the next morning, they were eaten. He never got a "thank you" but he hadn't expected one, and seeing that Moriarty had eaten his food was enough to make John feel appreciated.

Tonight was another different night. Moriarty was home early, and they were having a rice-dish that John had cooked, together. They had discussed a lot about the latest big crime that had occured in London – someone had apparently kidnapped one of the Queen's beloved dogs. Moriarty claimed his innocence to John, but the doctor was sure he'd heard barking sounds coming from the criminal's room. He didn't argue it though, but instead listened interested, as Moriarty described in detail how he would go about doing it, if he was ever to do something like that. He was just as much a show-off as Sherlock had been, but John wasn't bothered by it, the same way he hadn't been bothered by Sherlock.

They'd come to a halt in the conversation and ate in silence for a while, the only sounds to be heard were their forks against the plate and a faint, distant growling that they both seemed to ignore. Because there was definitely not a royal dog in Moriarty's room, they both knew that...

After a bit of thought, John put his cutlery down and looked up at Moriarty. The other man noticed almost instantly that he was being watched, and he lifted his head to meet John's eyes, while he continued chewing.

"So..." John started, rubbing his hand together under the table. "When do I start?"  
He watched as Moriarty finished chewing, and wiped his mouth with a tissue, taking his time. He then took a sip of water, drawing out the time, before he put the glass back down.

"When do you start what?" He said slowly, but they both knew what John was talking about.

"You said you wanted my help. You wanted me to help you like I helped Sherlock." John replied, watching Moriarty expectantly. Moriarty's lip curled up in one of his trademark smirks.

"Yes, I remember. But you have to tell me – How exactly did you help Sherlock?" The criminal had put his fork and knife on his plate now too, his eyes fixed on John, like a hawks on it's prey.

John opened his mouth to answer, and then closed it again when he realized he wasn't sure how to explain it. How did he really help Sherlock? He usually just tagged along, had a look if there was a dead body to be looked at, and apart from that... He was actually just there, for Sherlock to talk to whenever he needed to think out loud. John blinked very slowly, as he let that thought sink in.

"Be patient, and I'll find some way you can help me, without getting directly involved with the crimes." Moriarty broke the silence, of course he'd known from the start that John wouldn't be able to answer his question. He picked up his knife and fork, and started talking about a movie he'd seen last week that he thought John might enjoy, and just like that they were back to before the conversation happened. Expect for the new feeling of doubt that had settled in John. Had he even been useful to Sherlock at all?

Moriarty left to go to work after dinner, and John tidied up, before deciding to go to bed early.

He tried Moriarty's door once, but wasn't surprised to find it locked. The sounds that erupted from the room killed the last piece of doubt in his mind – the dog was definitely in there.

He sighed and shook his head at how silly it all was. Then he headed out for a warm shower, before crawling into bed. He lay sleepless for a while, thinking of Sherlock and their time together, but eventually sleep managed to overwhelm him and he gratefully slipped into the dreams awaiting. And it was all nice. Until the nightmares started.

He'd had them ever since his return from the war, but they'd faded and become less and less frequent when he was living at 221b Baker Street. After Sherlock's fall, it'd started up again, even worse than before. Worse, because now it wasn't just him getting shot in the war, or his military friends being hurt or dying.

Now it was Sherlock. And it was worse, because Sherlock was dead. Whenever John died in his dream, he would wake up to find himself sweaty, out of breath and confused, but very much alive. When he woke up now, Sherlock would still be dead. And that made it all a thousand times worse.

This time Moriarty was in the dream too. He was on their side, which was strange, as he'd only ever appeared as an enemy before. John immediately felt cold. He was going to die. Not John, not Sherlock, but Moriarty. He was sure of it. The setting was often the same, it was the same battle and mostly the same enemies, but the deaths happened at random, in different ways.

John shouted out Moriarty's name, as he ran towards him. The criminal turned with a wicked smile, blood running down his cheek and John stopped, frightened by the sight.

That's when he realized that Moriarty wasn't about to be shot. He'd already been. The bullet had gone just beside his eye, and it must have hit something important, because John didn't manage more than a few steps before Moriarty fell. His eyes were open wide, and his mouth slightly too, but he was definitely dead.

John sat up with a loud gasp, trying to shake the dream out of his head. He blinked slowly, trying to let his eyes get used to the dark. Then he noticed a movement coming from one of his chairs, and he whipped his head around just in time to see the silhouette stand up.

"You were having a nightmare?" It was a statement, but the tone in his voice suggested that he wanted John to confirm it. John swallowed, his throat feeling dry.

"Yes. It happens sometimes." He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, trying to wake himself up enough to realized why Moriarty was in his room.

Moriarty came closer, slowly, like a cat stalking it's prey, and John's heart started to beat faster.

"But tonight was different." The criminal said, as he pulled out the chair from John's desk, and placed it right in front of him. Even though he sat down, he was still above John, and it made the doctor feel vulnerable.

"How did you know?" He asked, genuinely curious. Even in the dark, John could tell that Moriarty was smirking.

"You shouted my name. Usually it's Sherlock. But tonight you shouted Jim." He said smugly, and John knew he was enjoying this.

"Wait, you've heard me more than once?" He asked, too confused to be embarassed about the fact that Moriarty had heard him shouting his name in his sleep.

"Yes, a couple of times." Moriarty admitted. "I always come in and check on you, but you seem to manage."

John breathed slowly as he tried to take in the information. Moriarty had heard him shouting due to his nightmares. Moriarty had heard him shout both Sherlock and Jim. He'd also been in his room multiple times, while John was sleeping. That was almost like a nightmare in itself. For some reason, John didn't feel nearly as uneasy as he probably should.

"I do." The doctor said hoarsely. "I manage. And I'll manage just fine tonight too, so just... Go back to sleep, or whatever it is you do in the nights." Moriarty chuckled darkly, and John was happy it was dark, so the criminal wouldn't see him blushing. He slapped himself in his thoughts for it. He was a grown man, not a shy teenage girl, and there was absolutely no reason to blush.

"You sure you don't want me to stay?" Moriarty asked, the smirk still obvious in his tone of voice.

"Very sure, thank you." John lay back down and turned his back to the criminal, who was enjoying himself way too much for the doctor's liking. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight." Moriarty replied. He chuckled to himself once more, as he left the room. John Watson was even more interesting than he'd thought he would be.


	5. Chapter 5

John was surprised to find Moriarty still at home, when he woke up. The time was just past 8 am, but usually Moriarty would have left by now, and Moran would have arrived. But he wasn't there today. John sent the criminal a questioning look, as said man looked up from the newspaper he was reading.

"Good morning, John." He greeted, and took a sip of the mug placed on the table next to him – Wheter it was coffee or tea, John couldn't tell.

"Good morning." The doctor replied, as he approached slowly. His brain was trying as quick as possible to work out a way for him to imply the rareness of seeing Moriarty home at this hour, hoping it would lead to an explanation. But it had yet to come up with something. Moriarty was staring at him, which certainly didn't help with the focus.

"Why don't you just ask what you want to ask, John?" Moriarty said slowly, with a serious face. John felt a shiver run down his spine – He would never ever get used to hearing his own name said with that voice.

"Okay." John shifted his feet uncomfortably. "Why are you still home, then? You're usually... gone by now." He cringed at his own choice of words. "Well, gone to work... Or "work"" He almost did the marks with his fingers, but managed to stop himself, knowing that the tone of his voice was enough to get his point across. That's when Moriarty started smiling.

"You're right, well-observed, doctor." He was mocking John, who rolled his eyes and flexed his hands, about to say something sarcastic and leave. But Moriarty continued before he had the chance: "Actually, I'm still here because I was waiting for you." With those words, he closed the newspaper and directed his complete focus at John.

"For me?" John's mouth had already been open, but the words that came out were very different from what he originally planned to say. He furrowed his brows, as he stared at his room-mate in anticipation.

"Yes, for you, John." The name. The damn name again, John thought, almost shaking his head. "You said you wanted to help me, right?" Moriarty stood up from his chair, and started walking around the table, taking long but slow steps.

"Ye-yeah, that was sort of the plan, wasn't it?" John said, turning his whole body as he followed the criminal's movements.

"I guess so." Moriarty shrugged. "Well, I've found something you can do for me." He smirked at the doctor, taking in the sight: John's confusion was just too clear on his face.

"What is it then?" John asked impatiently, as he tried not to show his discomfort. Moriarty was getting very close, and didn't show any signs of stopping his movements, but John was determined to stand his ground, to show he would not be intimidated.

"I need you to..." Moriarty drew out the last word, as he took a final step, definitely invading John's personal space. "Take care of Hugo." He smiled down at the slightly shorter man, who seemed to sort of deflate due to his words. The confusion was back, yet he looked slightly less excited.

"Take care of who?" He asked, annoyed that he had to tilt his head slightly in order to maintain eye-contact with Jim. He could take a few steps back, he knew he would be far more comfortable like that, but then Moriarty would win this little game and that eliminated the option.

"Hugo. The dog in the bathroom. He needs to be fed and taken for walk. While you're at it, we're running low on tea, so I'll leave you some money..." It was obvious that Moriarty was enjoying it, way too much for John's liking. Dog-sitter... That's what he was needed for? Really? He sighed, and shook his head in a defeated manner.

"Fine, I'll do it. But I thought you said you didn't know anything about that stupid dog's disappearence?" He couldn't help but mention it, not sure how Moriarty would react, but to no one's surprise, the criminal's smirk just grew even bigger.

"What dog? You mean the Queen's? Well, Hugo's just a regular dog, for all I know. I'm just taking care of him for a... friend." John shook his head in disbelief, and Moriarty chuckled slightly.

Before John had any chance of realizing what was going on, the criminal grabbed his head between his hands, and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

John froze completely, like a dear caught in a headlight. When Moriarty let go and took a few steps back, John was staring at him wide-eyed and open-mouthed, but not sure what to say.

"Did Sherlock ever kiss you?" He asked, and John immediately came back to his senses. Maybe the first thing on his mind should've been to ask why, but the comment made John almost angry.

"No." He said loudly in an angry voice, and it didn't help his temper when Moriarty just flashed him a grin in response.

"I'll be late, don't wait up." Moriarty said, as he drew a £50 note from the inner pocket of his jacket, and left it on the table on his way out. He was gone before John even had the time to say anything. John stood in the same spot for a while, trying to process what exactly had happened.

Finally, when the sound of Hugo barking from the bathroom cut through the silence, John managed to pull himself together.  
He went straight to the bathroom and opened the door to let out a not-very-pleased-looking corgi.

"Hey Hugo." He said softly as he bent down and let the dog sniff his hand. It wagged it's tail and he scratched it behind the ear, wondering how the heck Moriarty had been able to sneak it away from all the guards.

He put out some food for the dog before he headed into the shower, still unble to shake the lingering feeling of Moriarty's lips on his skin. He'd already given up on trying to figure out what exactly the man had been thinking, but luckily he had the whole day to think about the proper way to confront him with it.

He finished showering and made himself some breakfast, before grabbing the leash that was left on the kitchen table. Hugo started jumping everywhere at the sight of it, and John couldn't help but smile at the dog's eagerness. At least one of them were in a good spirit...

"Please take your change." John rolled his eyes at the machine, as he grabbed the coins as quick as possible. Of course it wasn't quick enough for the self checkout who then went on: "Please take your items."

"Yes, yes, calm down!" He cursed at it as he stuffed the change in his pocket, and grabbed the shopping bag.

"John?" He turned around at the sound of his name, and was surprised to see Molly Hooper standing just few steps away.

"Oh, hi! Hi Molly!" He greeted with a surprised smile. "How's everything?"  
Just as the words left his mouth, another well-known face stepped up next to Molly.  
"Lestrade?" He tilted his head in questioning manner, and a slight blush spread across Molly's face.

"Yeah, we've been seeing each other for a while now." She said, sounding almost apologetic.

"Well, that's nice to hear!" John replied, and he actually meant it – He hadn't spoken to Molly since the funeral, but he'd thought about her a few times, worrying that she might not be able to move on at all.

"And how are you?" She asked, taking one of their bags as Lestrade took the change from the machine.

"Good, I'm very good thanks." His smile was a little bit more strained this time, as his thoughts flew to Moriarty and the kiss.

"That's good to hear." Molly smiled warmly at him, as they all started making their way towards the exit of the store.

"So, are you still in 221b?" Greg asked, and John shook his head slowly.

"No, I, uhm... I figured it'd be easier to move on if I... Yeah, you know.. Moved on." He stopped to take Hugo, who'd been waiting outside the store.

"Yeah, that sounds quite reasonable." Molly agreed, while Greg seemed unable to take his eyes off of Hugo.

"You should be careful leaving a dog outside the store like that, especially one like him... He's the kind the Queen has too.. Did you hear that one of them was taken recently?" Lestrade looked at John, who immediately feigned surprised.

"Really? One of the Queen's dogs? I wonder who on earth could get away with that." He seemed to have done a good enough job, because Greg turned his gaze slowly in though, as he agreed with a:

"Yes, so do we..."

As they came up to the road and the time came for them to go their seperate ways, Greg turned to John again.

"Please, John, tell me... Have you found a new job?" He looked genuinely interested, and for some reason he seemed to light up when John shook his head.

"No, I can't say that I have... But lately I've not been to good with looking for one anyway."

"Tell you what... Why don't you call me when you're ready to start something? If you're interested, I'd definitely love to have you on the team, officially this time." He smiled his teeth-flashing trademark smile, and John stopped dead in his tracks.  
Lestrade wanted him? To help the Scotland Yard? Even without Sherlock?

"Uhm, well, that sounds... Good. Really good, actually." John managed to get out, earning a happy smile from both Molly and Greg. "I'll be sure to do that."

"Great! I'm looking forward to hearing from you then, John!"

They said their goodbyes, and John couldn't focus on anything else for the rest of the walk home.

He was surprised to find Moriarty's shoes in the entrance when he came in. It was only slightly past 5, much earlier than John had expected, especially since Moriarty had told him he'd be late.

"Hello?" John said out loud, as he took off his shoes, and let Hugo loose from the leash. He stepped into the living room, but Moriarty was no where to be seen. "Jim?" He called, but there was no response.

He stood still and listened... And that's when he noticed the sound of running water. Jim was in the shower, apparently.

John went into the kitchen to unpack, while he tried to slow down his racing heart. He was gonna have to ask Moriarty about what'd happened the same morning. He'd expected to have more time to prepare. He didn't even have much time to panic, as he heard the door to the bathroom open. Soft footsteps came closer, and closer, until Moriarty joined him, standing in the door to the kitchen... wearing nothing but a towel around the waist.

"Hi, John. Did you have a good day?" The criminal smirked, clearly enjoying the taken-aback look the doctor was wearing.

"I... Uhm..." It was simple enough: Why did you kiss me? Why are you standing half-naked in front of me? Those were the questions he needed to ask. Instead what came out was: "I meet criminal inspector Lestrade today."

"Oh?" Moriarty looked interested as he took a few steps into the kitchen, making John involuntarily take a few steps back himself.

"He, uhm.. He offered me a job." He tried to keep his eyes on Moriarty's face, but small droplets of water were dripping from his hair, making it no easier to stay focused on the subject. Sherlock and John had never dated, but John had always had a thing for guys. He wasn't exactly gay, but he was definitely not straight either. Bisexual, leaning towards guys, would probably describe it best.  
And of course Moriarty's wet, half-naked body in front of him, had him reacting.

"Are you gonna take it?" Moriarty asked, smirking slightly. He was obviously well aware of the effects his little stunt had on John, and he was loving it.

"Do you want me to?" Jim chuckled and John squirmed slightly, not sure what to make of it all.

"There's a lot of things I want you to do, Dr. Watson... But I get the feeling, you're not going to let me decide." His voice was deep and slow, and John loved and hated it at the same time.

"You're right, I won't." He stared at Jim, waiting for his next move. But nothing came. The criminal just chuckled shortly, before he turned to exit the kitchen.

"Get changed. We're going out tonight."

With those words, he left an utterly confused, and slightly uncomfortable John in the kitchen, trying to sort out the mess inside his head.


End file.
